Time stands still at the White Horse

When this picture was taken in 1940, the White Horse Tavern was just another corner bar on the far West Side, catering to longshoreman working the piers and workers from the Nabisco plant on Bethune Street, among other factories that used to anchor the neighborhood.

In the 1950s the White Horse earned its bohemian cred, with Jack Kerouac, James Baldwin, and other writers holding court—and Dylan Thomas spending his final drunken night there, as the story goes.

But tensions with neighborhood regulars existed. In New York in the 50s, author Dan Wakefield writes:

“The hostility toward all nonconformists was heightened during the McCarthy fervor of the fifties, when mostly Irish kids from the surrounding area made raids on the Horse, swinging fists and chairs, calling the regulars ‘commies and faggots.'”

The White Horse today. The building and corner look almost exactly the same, now beckoning tourists, frat boys, and neighborhood folks to come in for a drink.

I’ve been going to the White Horse Tavern since 1972. The first time I went, I met two old friends of Dylan Thomas’s–Mr. and Mrs. McAlpine, who were visiting New York from Wales and taking a trip down memory lane.

I was reading Jane Jacobs’ “The Death and Life of Great American Cities” and I found a portion of page 40 dedicated to the White Horse Tavern.

“We are fortunate enough, on the street, to be gifted not only with a locally supported bar and another around the corner, but also with a famous bar that draws continuous troops of strangers from adjoining neighborhoods and even from out of town. It is famous because the poet Dylan Thomas used to go there and mentioned it in his writing…. On a cold winter’s night, as you pass the White Horse, and the doors open, a solid wave of conversation and animation surges out and hits you; very warming.”

Thank you for posting these photos and information. I’ll have to stop in when I’m in the neighborhood sometime.

When I was a kid in the late 50’s i used to have to go to the White Horse Tavern to get our handyman. My mother would say go get Omar and I would walk over to the bar and bring him home. He was always there with his dog Fluffy. It is funny how I remember that but can’t remind what I did yesterday.